leave all your love and your longing behind
by Cinderela-Story
Summary: It's been seventy-four days since the last time. If she concentrates, she can still feel the warmth of his shoulder through her dressing gown as they stand outside of the nursery.


Title: leave all your love and your longing behind (you can't carry it with you if you want to survive)

Summary: It's been seventy-four days since the last time. If she concentrates, she can still feel the warmth of his shoulder through her dressing gown as they stand outside of the nursery.

Character/Pairing: Quinn Fabray; Noah Puckerman; Quinn/Puck

Rating: G

Disclaimer: They don't belong to me, although I wish Cory did.

_I've been waiting for you to come rescue me_

_I need you to hold all of the sadness I can not, living inside of me_

i.

In the end, it wasn't anything like she expected.

There were no tearful goodbyes, no lingering last looks as someone pulled Beth from her arms.

(No Puck there to hold her as she cried.)

The nurse simply told her it was time before wheeling the baby away and out of sight, her mother rushing in a moment later to smooth it all out as if the absence of her tiny presence had willed her from existence.

Quinn sits on the edge of her hospital bed, fidgeting with the hem of her yellow sundress as her mother enters the room. She feels the bed beside her sink slightly and knows what's coming next, even before her mother whispers the words.

"It's okay if – if you want to cry, you know," she says, tucking a lock of hair behind Quinn's ear, stumbling slightly over her words and making it clear it would be anything but. Quinn simply shakes her head, pulling from reach. She's one tumble away from freefall and the thought of solid ground beneath her feet is the only thing keeping her upright. She can't afford to crack now. "Okay," her mother says, smoothing her skirt down as she stands, leaving the room.

Quinn looks around one final time before tucking a small swatch of pink fabric into her purse and turning to follow.

ii.

Summer passes as summers usually do in Lima.

She sees Mercedes and Kurt, avoids Finn and Rachel, exchanges barbs with Santana. She smiles her Cheerio smile, attends bible study and is safe in bed by ten each night. She is her mother's daughter again.

She doesn't see Puck. She locks him away in an old shoebox, like a memory she once knew to be fact, tucked beneath a pair of soft plaid pajama bottoms he'd once let her borrow (riding low beneath the bump of their baby) and a tiny pink knit cap.

She doesn't think about the past year ("onward and upward," her mother would say) and she never cries, not once.

iii.

She sees him the second week into the school year.

It's been seventy-four days since the last time. If she concentrates, she can still feel the warmth of his shoulder through her dressing gown as they stand outside of the nursery. (_Did you love me?_)

She's wearing crimson and white again, a blonde ponytail atop her head, not a hair out of place. She brushes past him and their eyes meet for a moment but she keeps walking, for lack of anything better to say.

He's wearing a plaid button-down and their daughter's smile.

iv.

They don't speak.

He exists to her now in the way their daughter does; on the edge of her thoughts each day, on the tip of someone's tongue as she walks the halls at school.

(Locked away in an old shoebox, a memory she once knew to be fact.)

She's had experience with broken bones and thinks the same must be true of broken hearts – a clean break is easier to set, to repair; anything else simply leaves behind a mess. Quinn hates a mess and she has even less patience for heartache so this is for the best, she thinks.

Puck for his part seems to be managing well. He certainly doesn't seem to be losing sleep over it and she doesn't catch him watching her anymore, not even when Glee is particularly boring. In time, the distance between them begins to feel more like a mutual agreement, which is what she wanted, _really_.

It's just.

When she prayed for everyone to forget, she never thought "everyone" would include him.

v.

Puck's gone.

(Something about an ATM and some kind of detention center. He's always been a creature of habit – except when it comes to loving her, it seems.)

She's paired with the new kid for an assignment, singing a song about how lucky she is to be in love and the whole thing is so completely absurd she nearly laughs because love isn't like this; it isn't rainbows and butterflies and magic. It's wine coolers on a warm Fall night and sleeping in his bed when she was pregnant and giving their baby away because she deserves so much more. It's _goodbye_ and _I'm sorry_ and _yes, especially now_.

If Puck has taught her anything, it's this: love isn't a balm to heal all wounds and it isn't the ending to some romantic fairytale. It can't save you or change you or make you better because love isn't enough. It's just ... not.

(Then again, nobody writes songs called "remember that time we had a baby?" so maybe it's better this way.)

vi.

Rachel is being unusually quiet.

It's the first glee club meeting of the new year and no one seems particularly happy to be back in school, not even Rachel, which is strange because Quinn knows she and Finn reconciled over break so she expected at least a ballad or two in his honor. Instead, Rachel keeps fidgeting and sneaking looks at Quinn from the corner of her eye, only to look away nervously when she realizes she's been caught.

"What is it?" Quinn nearly shouts as the bell rings and she's up and out of her seat before she really even thinks about it. "You've been staring at me all day and you're obviously _dying_ to say something so spit it out! What is it that you want, Rachel?"

In the time it takes for her to get the words out, she's gained an audience. The entire glee club is staring at them, eager to see what will happen next as Finn steps forward, ready to intervene. A moment later though, she hears Rachel's voice from behind him. "I have something for you," she says and Quinn can feel all eyes on her as the tiny brunette pushes an envelope into her hands. She's not sure how exactly, but she knows what it is from the feel of it between her fingers and suddenly it's as if there simply isn't enough air in the room to go around.

"Shelby wanted me to –," she hears Rachel say, and then, "I'm sorry. I was waiting for the right time." Quinn's eyes glass over a little then because now she's sure of what the envelope holds and she simply can't bear to look. Instead, she whispers a hurried "thank you" to Rachel before running for the door.

(She never stops, not even when she hears Puck calling her name.)

vii.

She finds her courage later that night.

She's sitting atop her bed (in a pair of soft plaid pajama bottoms) holding the envelope tightly in her hands. She braces herself for a moment before taking a deep breath and sliding her finger beneath flap just as a loud _creak!_ pierces the air. She looks to her window, startled, as Puck slides one leg over the sill and then another.

"Hi," he says simply, by way of greeting but Quinn can only stare. She feels the bed beside her dip slightly as he sits down, taking the envelope from her hands and removing the stack of photographs inside. She catches a glimpse of blonde curls and turns away, eyes shut. "Puck," she whispers, but if he hears her, he doesn't show it.

"She looks like you," he says and even with eyes closed can she hear the smile in his voice. She opens them slowly but keeps her head turned, not quite ready to see.

"She's so beautiful, Q," he says in awe and she turns her head to look at him before taking a deep breath and peering over his shoulder at their daughter. Puck is right – she is _so_ beautiful, even more so than Quinn imagined. "But she doesn't look like me, Puck," she whispers, close to his ear. "She looks like _us_."

He smiles then, his eyes going soft, and when his arms come around her a moment later, she doesn't resist. Instead, she curls into his lap and lets him hold her as she cries, singing softly in her ear.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she says, and between the hitches in her breath, it sounds as if she is singing too.


End file.
